


Samson

by OldWomanJosie



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2499758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldWomanJosie/pseuds/OldWomanJosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And she said, The Philistines be upon thee, Samson. And he awoke out of his sleep, and said, I will go out as at other times before, and shake myself. And he knew not that the LORD was departed from him. Judges 16:20</p>
            </blockquote>





	Samson

"Eliot, wake up, they're here!"

Eliot Spencer's eyes snapped open. Angela was screaming; there was danger. Men were flooding into their room: men in black clothes with silent movements and menacing guns. His instincts kicked in before he was even fully awake and he prepared to leap out of the bed and defend himself and his woman.

Or at least he tried.

Eliot bucked violently and tumbled off the bed onto the floor. His arms were tied behind his back and his legs were laced together in expertly tight knots. He jerked against the ropes, but they held fast. Whoever had tied him knew their stuff; he was trapped like a rat. He struggled to get to his feet somehow and screamed at Angela to run, but it was already too late. Their attackers already had her by the throat, a gun cocked at her temple. Eliot stopped his fruitless struggle and held very still as a pistol was placed beside his own ear. His soldier's brain could immediately see that there was no way out of this at the moment. The best thing to do was bide his time. And observe.

His eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail. It was dark and the men wore black, so there was not much to see. But the style of their movements and configuration of their guns that he recognized as easily as if they'd been wearing nametags. The Mafia. He took a deep breath, calming himself. This was going to get ugly before it got better. And Angela had been dragged right into the middle of it.

As if to confirm his guess, one of the men crouched beside him and tilted his head so that Eliot could see him by the streetlight streaming through the window. "Mr. Spencer," he greeted, as if they'd met casually in a grocery store aisle.

"Sansone," Eliot grunted. Ezio Sansone was a rising star in the Mafia, no thanks to one Eliot Spencer. Eliot had caused a lot of trouble for the Families five years ago when he'd taken out several of their enforcers. They'd been side casualties in a completely seperate job, but the Mafia had a long memory. More importantly, so did Sansone: Eliot had killed two of his brothers in that fight. And he'd been out for blood ever since.

"So finally I found you," the mobster said with a smile. "I was beginning to think I never would. You're a hard man to get to, Mr. Spencer."

Eliot smiled back at him. "Yeah, I try." He nodded toward Angela. The woman's eyes were wide with fear and she was visibly trembling. "Let her go. You've got me, you don't need her."

Sansone's eyes glinted in the half-light. "She's seen my face. And heard my name. We can't let her go now." He nodded sharply to the man holding Angela. He dragged her out of the room, kicking and screaming.

Eliot closed his eyes, trying not to hear her shrieking his name. He opened them again and leveled a hard glare at the gangster in front of him. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you."

Sansone only laughed. "Oh, Mr. Spencer," he chuckled. "I highly doubt you'll be killing anyone ever again." He was still laughing when a goon clubbed Eliot over the head, sending everything spiraling into darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> I may add more to this one day, but for now, here it is.


End file.
